So, I'm super slack and forgot to post yesterday. :| Sorry, guys. I suck. And today really sucked, and I hurt my foot, and my stomach is aching so I'm feeling really uninspired and I just want to go to bed. Happy fourth, everyone.
Upon the hallowed halls of the Vatican,
Clipped the heels of a woman, hand to her bodkin.
A man in fur, vision of her nightmares,
Brings her to Italy, to make her repairs.
At home in Brooklyn she slinked her street,
Committing sins so her son can eat.
Mary was her name, ironic in origin,
She fled her early home, that desolate dungeon,
To make a new life, away from there,
And she comes full circle, making a prayer.
She takes a knee, eyes to the Lord,
Feeling the tightening of her metaphorical cord,
Around her neck, where she placed it ere,
In her duty as a mother to care,
For her son, the child of a man she loved.
She pledged her soul to her beloved above.
Sounds familiar, nice to actually be able to read this.
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